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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29977422">love letters i won’t send</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/justacitygirlbornandraisedinwhoops/pseuds/justacitygirlbornandraisedinwhoops'>justacitygirlbornandraisedinwhoops</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Adventures of Huckleberry Finn - Mark Twain, Adventures of Tom Sawyer - Mark Twain, Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, little snippet i did for secret santa a few months ago, not a whole lot but it’s something</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:54:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,577</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29977422</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/justacitygirlbornandraisedinwhoops/pseuds/justacitygirlbornandraisedinwhoops</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Huck can be dense at times, but not that dense.</p><p>He’s known for a little while, now. A young man can only fantasize about his best friend’s eyes and smile and laughter for so long before he suspects that, perhaps, he wishes he were something more.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Huckleberry Finn/Tom Sawyer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>love letters i won’t send</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>so i wrote this a few months ago for a secret santa prompt from @ valentine1604 on tumblr:<br/>“As Huck learns how to write he soon realizes his enjoyment for it, and in the process realizes his feelings for Tom. Tom, being his mischievous self, is incredibly curious to see Huck’s writings.”</p><p>wasn’t exaaactly how the prompt went, but i tried my best!! really wasn’t satisfied with it because it felt so rushed when i wrote it, but reading it again i decided i liked it enough to post.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> “When the sun gets in his eyes, they turn just a little brownish around the edges. Or maybe I can just see them better that way. I don’t reckon I seen eyes like his on anyone else before.” </em>
</p><p>Huck hastily scratches the words into his journal, the shadow of a smile on his lips. To say that he thinks Tom’s eyes to be merely intriguing would be a wild understatement, and quite misleading as well. He makes a poor attempt at discretion as he watches them intently follow the text on the page of the novel in Tom’s hands.</p><p>That’s another thing Huck really likes about Tom. His hands. As he takes the corner of the page and flips it to the next, Huck can’t help but notice, not for the first time, how long his fingers are. He likes the way they curl and fan out against the spine of the book, the way the bones shift beneath the skin all the while, lithe, birdlike almost.</p><p>Huck can be dense at times, but not <em> that </em>dense.</p><p>He’s known for a little while, now. A young man can only fantasize about his best friend’s eyes and smile and laughter for so long before he suspects that, perhaps, he wishes he were something more.</p><p>Huck supposes he’s never possessed any outstanding skill for writing, not in the sense that the authors of Tom’s favorite novels do. But he never has to scrounge around his brain to find the words to say about Tom, either. Once he allows himself to moon, the rest just happens. He could fill up pages and pages about him, and he already has, though he’d never admit it aloud.</p><p>Huck is suddenly stirred from his reverie when Tom leans forward and practically buries his nose in the book, eyes squinted, brows furrowed and lips mouthing whatever chunk of text has caught his attention with new fervor.</p><p>Huck simply watches him for a moment or two, and then falls back into the bed of grass they share with a small chuckle. He tips his hat over eyes and lays his open journal on his chest.</p><p>Tom’s eyes catch onto Huck for a brief moment before returning to his book; then he notices the smile on Huck’s lips and does a double take. “…What?” he asks, trying to conceal the embarrassment that’s causing him to squirm slightly. “What’s funny?”</p><p>“Nothing,” says Huck, unconvincingly.</p><p>Tom scoffs and places his book down at his feet. “You’re smiling. What’re you smiling for?”</p><p>Huck contemplates whether or not he should say. After a small pause, he does. “It’s just I can tell you’re focusing real hard. On your book, I mean,” he replies, sitting up. He also contemplates whether or not he should tease Tom for some of his habits, only because otherwise, he might let on how fond of them he is. He smartly decides against it.</p><p>Tom frowns, brow creasing. “Well, you’re one to talk, ain’t you?” he laughs dryly. “Look at you. Filling up who knows how many pages and then getting onto <em> me </em> about looking focused.”</p><p>Huck smiles crookedly, bashfully, and remains silent in what he hopes conveys surrender.</p><p>Tom crosses his arms across his chest petulantly, unsatisfied. “What made you hit inspiration anyhow, Huck?” he asks, sounding almost accusatory. “You been going at it for a while.”</p><p>Huck’s heart skips a beat, though it really shouldn’t. He can always lie, can’t he? Of course he’ll lie. He smothers down his faint panic and shrugs loosely. “Not writing about anything new. Just things that happened.”</p><p>Tom’s back straightens and he puffs out his chest in defiance. “Things like what? There ain’t nothing happening right now; today’s been boring as hell.”</p><p>Huck falters for a brief moment before explaining, “Things like…what happened to us. In the cave.” <em> That’ll do. </em> “With the, uh. The treasure and everything. You know.”</p><p>“Is that it?” Tom’s face suddenly lights up in a beam that Huck would be absolutely smitten by, were he not so stricken by dread. “Lemme see then, hm, Huck?”</p><p>Huck blanches. He wishes he had thought this particular lie through a bit more, but then, he doesn’t take much time to think in general, does he? If he did, he certainly wouldn’t be writing what can only be described as poetry about his best friend, with said best friend sitting only a foot away.</p><p>“It ain’t ready,” Huck blurts, his grasp on the journal tightening. He forces out a breathy laugh and prays that his face isn’t as red as it feels. “You know how particular I am about my writing, Tom. Ain’t nothing but nonsense.”</p><p>“I never thought so,” counters Tom with a look that suggests Huck isn’t in his right mind to say such things.</p><p>“Well, you should’ve,” parries Huck nervously.</p><p>“And why is that?”</p><p>“Because it ain’t like any of that stuff you seem to enjoy often.”</p><p>“What does that have to do with me thinking your writing’s more than nonsense?”</p><p>“Plenty, Tom.”</p><p>Tom exhales a heavy sigh and sits back, deflated. “Well, I’m part of your little story. So that means I got a right to see it, don’t I?” he chuckles, only partly joking. But even partly not is too much for Huck’s comfort.</p><p>“No, it don’t,” Huck says, somber and unyielding.</p><p>Tom rolls his eyes and nudges closer. Huck clutches the journal closer to his chest in turn, and that’s when Tom grows visibly suspicious. The smile falls from his face.</p><p>“…Whatcha hiding, Huck?” he asks, brow raised.</p><p>Huck shakes his head a tad too enthusiastically. “Nothing. Can’t I just…keep my own thoughts to myself? I-I mean, why do you want to look at it so terribly?”</p><p>“You shown me your writing before,” Tom rebuts swiftly, looking as hurt as a kicked puppy. “Why keeping secrets all of a sudden, Hucky?”</p><p>“Quit that,” Huck murmurs, blushing furiously. Tom just <em> has </em> to be using that awful nickname against him. “It ain’t nothing personal, Tom, I swear it. Just leave it alone…please?’</p><p>Tom sits in quiet brooding at first. Then, begrudgingly, he edges away until he’s sitting again, perfectly still as a stone. He gives Huck one last grimace before nodding astutely. He must understand how unbearably uncomfortable Huck has grown, because he obeys.</p><p>Years ago, Tom might first have had to wrestle Huck for the journal, out of nothing but playfulness, before realizing that he’d crossed a line. But he knows better now.</p><p>Huck lays the journal down in the grass and releases a small sigh of relief. He hopes leaving it unguarded shows Tom that he’d never lose his trust.</p><p>Huck doesn’t write about Tom in front of him for a long time afterwards. He figures it’s probably for the best, anyhow.</p><p>***</p><p>Tom truly hadn’t meant to intrude on Huck’s personal belongings. It was more that he’d stumbled upon them, but once he began reading, he knew he couldn’t stop himself.</p><p>A page from Huck’s journal had been torn loose from its binding and fallen beneath the drawer in which he usually stowed it away so carefully. In his defense, Tom hadn’t known he would be reading something so private. If he had, he would have…Well, this could’ve been any page from that blamed thing. It very well could have been a page from a story Huck had shared with Tom a million times over. How could Tom have known?</p><p>“<em>I like seeing him get happy…when he reads…Makes me feel happy too.</em>”</p><p>Tom’s whispers are as thin as paper. His eyes scan the page thoroughly, eyes darting here and there in a frenzy. He swears he can hear the blood thrumming in his veins.</p><p>The words are undeniably endeared, intimate. They’re butter soft. They fall like honey from his lips, and suddenly, Tom feels like he’s seen something that he shouldn’t. Like he’s repeated things aloud that he shouldn’t.</p><p>And all the while, he feels ecstatic, like he shouldn’t.</p><p>This isn’t the same kind of happiness he feels when he’s excited, the way he feels when he waits at the water’s edge to see a steamboat make its way down the river. It’s a quiet sort of happiness, gentle and yet relentless all at once; sweet, but just as strong.</p><p>He sits there in the buzzing silence, clutching the piece of paper in hands like it’s sacred, somehow, smiling so hard and so long that his face begins to ache. He reads the words over and over again until he thinks his head is spinning.</p><p>He hasn’t read a single line from any favorite novel of his so many times in his entire life.</p><p>He knows he’s got to return it to its rightful place eventually.</p><p>After a small moment that feels more like an eternity, he opens the drawer, removes the journal and tucks the piece of paper inside with scrupulous care. Huck would never suspect a thing, if Tom let him.</p><p>Once he shuts the drawer, he simply leaves the place, without another thought.</p><p>Huck is waiting outside to greet him.</p><p>He must see that Tom’s cheeks are flushed a bright red, because he pauses and asks, softly, kindly, “You alright, Tom?”</p><p>“Course I am.”</p><p>“Well…what is it, then?”</p><p>Tom is quiet at first. Then, with a small smile, he extends his hand out towards Huck and asks, “Come with me…?” Without the slightest explanation.</p><p>And Huck takes it, without the slightest hesitation.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>as always i appreciate both kudos and comments! thanks for reading.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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